As Thomas Gould relates in his introduction to the booklet
notes, the genesis of this disc was a recital programme in which he
interspersed movements from Bach’s solo sonatas and partitas with
some of the new works to be heard here. The process was intended to
show how the techniques required by composers of today were rooted in
Bach’s contrapuntalism. It seems that he has somewhat modified
the interspersion in favour of the single monolithic Chaconne with which
the programme begins, thus somewhat altering the perspective. Rather
than those single interspersed Bachian movements, the Chaconne now stands
as the fons et origo, a monumental columnar vantage on the
work of some of our contemporaries.

Whether or not this is because what works in a recital doesn’t
work so well in terms of home consumption, given that one can pick and
choose the piece, or simply cut short the listening, it’s nevertheless
good to hear works closely associated with Gould. It’s good also
to hear his unhurried, quite expressive reading of the Chaconne. It’s
not over-articulated, nor is he much taken by the need for contrastive
bowing. Instead one hears fluidity, fluency and a rather lateral approach.
The rest of the programme sees a number of premiere recordings. Gould
has performed the music of Nico Muhly frequently and plays A Long
Line with assurance, securely inside its use of accompanied pre-recorded
electronics, which provides the grit against which Gould’s violin
exhales in long or more short-breathed phrases. Graham Williams draws
on Stravinskian elements in his Mr Punch, a tersely fragmented
but interesting opus, whilst Anna Meredith’s Charged
ignites into crunchy chordal movement, decisively athletic.

All the music is for solo violin with some accompanying electronica,
as noted, so much is down to the interpretative and instrumental skill
of Gould. Nimrod Borenstein – born in Israel, raised in France
– is represented by Quasi Una Cadenza, composed in 2002,
which starts like the opening of the Kreutzer Sonata and seems
to pay homage to Bachian elements in a similar way to Ysa˙e when he
encoded Bach in his solo sonatas - not least the one dedicated to Jacques
Thibaud. In this work Gould uses a more intense vibrato than anywhere
else in the recital and it’s no surprise to read that Borenstein
trained as a violinist. Ewan Campbell’s Two Extremes
requires circular bowing – the contemporary fiddle equivalent,
I suppose, of circular breathing for a Jazz saxophone player. Ceaseless
motion in Rare Nothings is thus the result. In the second piece,
a tribute from the composer to the performer’s virtuosity, Everything,
All at Once utilises that rather overused trope, the Fibonacci
series, though here it’s put to effective use.

La Baroque by Aziza Sadikova is another piece dedicated to
Gould and whilst it does indeed nod backwards it also serves up some
abrasive, nasal sonorities. Each of these pieces has, as one might expect,
its own distinct character. Dai Fujikura’s Kusmetche
is predicated on taut Bulgarian-derived dance motifs, whilst Mark Bowden
is another to employ electronica. In his case, Lines Written a Few
Miles Below – the sly poetic allusion is to Wordsworth -
focuses on urgent train wheels driving along the underground railway:
funky and exciting. John Hawkins’ Bebop neatly enshrines
its jazz theme in this piece composed in 2004 for violinist Emily Pringle.
With a certain logic Miles Davis’ Donna Lee ends the
recital. David O’Brien is the enlisted bass player. I’m
sure Gould knows his Grappelli but from the sound of things he also
knows his Stuff Smith too, and that’s certainly no bad thing.

This beautifully recorded and well annotated disc is unusual and wide-ranging.
Thomas Gould seems to have the knack of making valuable and engaging
discs.